


de profundis

by emjee (MerryHeart)



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Adam continues to be a seductive literary bastard, But here you go, College AU, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Oscar Wilde quotes, Still here in the trash can, and also a good man, my bbys being cute and snarky, there is honestly not a lot of plot here y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 13:24:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10968129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerryHeart/pseuds/emjee
Summary: He hadn’t felt this angry in a long, long time.Then again, it had been a long time since he’d cared about anything so much. Or anyone.He felt Belle’s hand tighten around his waist, felt her body start to shake, felt a wetness soaking through the fabric of his shirt.The bastard had made her cry.Forget a solid pounding, now Adam had to kill him.College AU in which Adam is protective as hell.





	de profundis

“You look like death warmed over.”

Belle narrowly restrained herself from slamming a stack of hardcovers on Adam’s hand as they sat on opposite sides of a large table, sorting the day’s returned books. The sun had long since set through the fourth floor’s large windows; the library would be closing soon.

“Thanks, that is exactly what every girl longs to hear from the boy she’s…doing whatever it is I’m doing with you.” Belle dropped a book to be returned to the French history section onto the top of a pile with a _thwack_.

Adam covered her hand with one of his own before she could pick up another book. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Belle met his gaze and rubbed her sore neck with her free hand. “How did you mean it, then?”

“I meant…is everything alright?”

She gave a short sigh. “I’m fine, Adam, it’s just my first college finals season, that’s all.”

“It is a bit more intense for us English majors, isn’t it?” He let go of her hand and they both reached for books from the unsorted pile. “All those final papers, more like finals month than finals week.”

“Exactly.”

“What do you still have on the docket?”

“Three ten pagers in the next three weeks, and a five page close reading.”

“Jesus, I thought you were a freshman.”

“I am. Technically. Got a lot of gen eds out the way with APs, and tested out of all the basic stuff, and some of the intermediate. And Dr. Potts is my faculty advisor; she gave me a lot of overrides for upper level classes.”

“Well bless her for that.  You’d never have blown into Scrivener’s Romanticism class and driven me crazy otherwise.”

Belle gave him a small smile and checked the call number on the spine of the next book.

They worked in silence for a while, but despite Belle’s explanation, Adam couldn’t help but notice that she still seemed…agitated. Either that, or she had very strong personal feelings about Mikhail Bakhtin, based on the way she practically threw his book across the table into the literary criticism pile.

“Damn, Delacour, what did theory of the carnivalesque ever do to you?”

“Sorry,” Belle muttered.

“Hey.” Adam’s voice was soft. Belle looked up at him. “Seriously, Belle. Is everything alright?”

Belle buried her face in her hands and took a shaky breath. Adam was out of his seat and on her side of the table before she could say anything. She felt the pressure of his hand on her shoulder.

“Did something…did something happen?”

“No,” Belle breathed, taking her hands away from her face. “No it’s just…I went in blind with a roommate, at the start of the year, and she’s, she’s basically here to party, which is, I mean whatever, no judgment, right? And I certainly don’t mind if she keeps beer in the room, as long as she’s careful about it, because I mean, Soft Parade is delicious—”

“It’s fruit beer.”

“It’s fruit beer that will fuck you up, and don’t change the subject, Mr. I-Only-Drink-Bitter-Ass-IPAs.”

“You’re the one who brought up the booze. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re evading the question.”

Belle folded her arms and sat back in a huff. “There are always people in my room. Always. It should be fine, because I’m basically never there, except I have to sleep somewhere, and they never seem to take the hint, like, hey it’s after midnight and Belle’s had a pillow over her head for an hour, maybe we should adjourn to the lounge.”

“Who are the people?”

“My roommate. Two of her girlfriends. They’re all really giggly and silly; it’s not like they even try to be quiet. There’s this guy Lefou, which I think is his last name, and he’s not so bad, he sometimes mentions that maybe they should leave, but his friend Gaston is always like, ‘I’m sure she doesn’t mind, she’s probably asleep by now.’”

Adam’s body went rigid. “Gaston?”

Belle’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, he’s a few years older, I think? Broad guy, tall, seems to have little sense of boundaries.”

“He’s big over in another frat that is most emphatically not mine. They don’t have a good reputation, Belle, and neither does he.”

Belle blinked and reached out to curl an arm around Adam’s waist. God, he thought, she looked so tired. He cupped a hand to the back of her head and she buried her face in his shirt. He listened as she tried to even out her breaths, felt the twitching of her mouth as she tried not to cry.

“A couple of days ago, I came back to my room to get a book I’d forgotten,” she murmured. She was so quiet he had to concentrate to hear her, but he didn’t want to interrupt. He didn’t want to move a muscle, not until she told him the truth about what was going on. “It was the middle of the day. Gaston was in there alone—I guess my roommate let him in. I asked him where she was and he said she’d be right back. I went to get the book from my shelf and he leaned against the door and asked me if I wanted to go out sometime.” She felt a deep breath enter and exit Adam’s body before she went on. “I told him no thank you. He asked me why not. I said I barely knew him. He said that’s what dates were for. I said from what I’d seen of him I knew enough, and told him to move before I was late for class. And he just glared at me, and didn’t move, and I was starting to get really, really nervous, but then there was a knock and he stalked back to his chair. It was my roommate, back from wherever, and I told her not to leave people in here by themselves and then I left.”

Adam ran a hand through his hair. “Christ.”

“I haven’t slept in two weeks, Adam, and it’s not just because there are always people in my room. It’s because of who those people are.”

He could feel the adrenaline singing through his blood. He wanted to cut his shift early, unshelved books be damned, and he wanted to tear across campus and pound on the door of Gaston’s frat house and then pound on Gaston’s face until it was red and purple and swollen and bleeding.

He hadn’t felt this angry in a long, long time.

Then again, it had been a long time since he’d cared about anything so much. Or anyone.

He felt Belle’s hand tighten around his waist, felt her body start to shake, felt a wetness soaking through the fabric of his shirt.

The bastard had made her cry.

Forget a solid pounding, now Adam had to kill him.

“Hey,” he breathed, stroking a hand through Belle’s hair. “Hey, hey there, sweetheart, it’s going to be alright.”

“I’m never going to sleep again,” she said, her voice muffled.

“Yes you are. Of course you are.” He held her more tightly against him and wished he could surround her completely, protect her.

He had to fix this. What could he do to fix this?

"You could…you could come stay at my place,” he offered.

Belle drew back and looked up at him. “I thought you lived in a frat house.”

“I do, but, I mean, I have my own room, and my frat brothers are nice guys, I promise, I was always the resident little shit. If you can deal with me, the rest are like…kittens.”

Belle managed to raise an eyebrow. “Kittens?”

“I thought you were a cat person.”

She gave a very tired chuckle. “I am.” She turned back to the last of the unsorted books and checked the call number on a slim hardcover. Adam took that as his cue to return to his own seat and help her power through the rest of these. The sooner they got them reshelved, the sooner they could leave.

“You having a girl in the house…your frat brothers won’t…?”

“Mind?” Adam finished. “No.”

“And they won’t think…”

“They will all be perfect gentlemen or they will answer to me. It has been widely established that that’s not something they want to do.”

Belle looked up, surprised by the hardness of his tone. It was gratifying that he was so protective, of course, but the way he’d just spoken made her think there was a side of him she was quite unfamiliar with, a side that was apart from the wise-ass rich boy genius. A side that was perhaps a bit dangerous.

“I’ve got a couch in my room,” Adam said. “I’m happy to sleep on that, if that makes a difference. Because you still haven’t said if you’re—”

“Yes.” Belle placed the final book on top of a teetering stack on troubadour poetry—clearly someone had just finished a research paper on the subject—and gathered the books up to reshelve a few aisles over. “I’d like to stay with you tonight.”

Adam tried not to look too pleased; this was, after all, the result of her being harassed by a total douchebag. And yet, Belle, _in his bed,_ when as of yet they’d only had a few weeks of stolen moments in the library…he was certainly making the best of a bad situation. He picked up a stack destined for the early modern drama section. “Let’s get these guys back to their homes then.”

 _And then we can get back to ours_ , Belle thought. _Shut up, Delacour,_ another part of her brain said, _it’s far too early for that_.

Belle knelt down to return the troubadours to their rightful places, glancing down to where Adam stood a few bookshelves away. Whereas in September he had been the bane of her existence and a pain in her ass, now it was December and she’d discovered that not only was she attracted to him, she was inordinately fond of him. She’d never been able to deny that he was brilliant— _almost as brilliant as you, but not quite_ , she could hear her father saying—she wondered if her father would like him— _nonsense, you, your father’s two layovers and a car drive away_ —and over and over for the past month or so he’d demonstrated how much he cared about her, when he wasn’t being obnoxious for the fun of it. And that was before she even factored in the kissing…

She was falling, dammit, against her will. And hard.

They worked at twice their normal speed and were done in fifteen minutes. It made Belle realize how slow they usually were about the whole after-hours organizing process, and she felt stupid for just now noticing. Of course they worked at a snail’s pace. Much as they had claimed mutual dislike, it was obvious now how much they had enjoyed the teasing and the conversations that sometimes became accidentally deep. They were slow because they didn’t want it to end.

And now it wasn’t ending.

Shit.

She was far too happy about this.

 

Adam came upstairs with her when she went to collect her things from her dorm room.

“Are you cool if I lean in the doorway looking menacing?” he asked as the elevator doors closed.

“I already don’t think my roommate likes me very much.”

“Then I doubt I can make it much worse. And I’ll get to scare anyone who’s in there into leaving you the fuck alone.”

“And your masculinity quotient for the day will be fulfilled.”

Adam stepped close to her and curled a hand around her wrist. “I could kill him, Belle. Just for making you nervous. Just for looking at you wrong, for disrespecting your space. If all I do is glower a bit from the door, I will prove that I have a lot more control than I used to.”

Belle blinked up at him, but before she could say anything, the elevator doors pinged open. “I’m just around the corner,” she muttered. Adam let go of her wrist, but she reached out and caught his hand in hers before he could fully pull away. When she stopped outside her door, he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand while she located her key. Before she turned it in the lock, she gave him a tiny smile and whispered, “Thank you.” He squeezed her hand and let it drop.

She swung the heavy door open and revealed a surprising amount of people for such a small room. Three girls who were dressed quite similarly—one of them was the roommate, he assumed—plus a short, somewhat heavy-set young man, a guy he recognized from a past French class—Stanley, was that his name?—who was looking at the short one with rather obvious fondness, and then—

“Hello, Belle.”

“Hi, Gaston.” Belle’s voice was completely flat.

“Come to join us, finally?”

“No.” Belle tossed her backpack on her bed and emptied it of her Wednesday textbooks. She didn’t bother to put them away, just replaced them with her Thursday books and binders. She grabbed a duffel from under her bed and began to pull dresses out of her wardrobe.

“Going out for the night?” one of the girls asked.

“Yeah, I won’t be back.” She went to her dresser and threw a few tshirts and a pair of jeans in her bag, then grabbed a bag that Adam assumed contained her toiletries and zipped the duffel shut.

“Where are you going?” Gaston asked.

“Like Evette said. Out.”

Gaston leaned back in his chair and laced his hands behind his head. “But what could be more fun than being here?”

“Who’s this?” one of Evette’s friends asked, gesturing toward the door.

“Adam,” Belle replied. She didn’t introduce him to the others, and he didn’t explain who they were to each other.

Good riddance. They didn’t deserve to know.

Gaston eyed Adam, his head tilting in recognition. “I think I know you. Aren’t you from—”

“Gamma Sigma Beta, yeah. Ready?” he asked Belle as she threw on her backpack.

“Let’s go.”

Adam moved aside to let her out, then allowed himself one last glare at Gaston before slamming the door. If only looks really could kill.

“I know I packed a ton of clothes,” Belle said, “I’m not trying to impose, I promise, I just don’t know what the weather’s going to be like tomorrow, and—”

“Hush,” Adam said softly. “May I carry one of your bags?”

Belle handed him her duffel without protest—she must really be tired—and they returned to the elevator.

They stood in silence, except for the beep of the elevator as it passed each floor, before Adam said, “You can stay as long as you want. Your comfort is the most important thing.”

Belle forced herself to look him in the eyes—those gorgeous, shouldn’t-be-allowed blue eyes. “Thank you.”

The doors opened. They crossed the dorm lobby and burst out of the doors into the snowy night.

“I don’t suppose there’s anyone you can report anything to,” said Adam as they walked toward his frat house a few blocks away.

“Ha. There’s technically nothing to report, and even if there was, it’s not as though universities have a sterling reputation for handling that kind of stuff.”

Adam exhaled sharply through his nose, his breath steaming in the cold air. For just a moment, Belle thought, he looked rather like a dragon. She almost wanted to laugh. “I’ve only become aware in the last year or so of how much utter bullshit women put up with,” he said. “And I’m sorry it’s taken me this long. It’s shameful. Having to constantly police your space, not even safe in your own room…God dammit, Belle, it makes me want to set things on fire, and it doesn’t even happen to me.”

“Do you want to know what my scariest recurring nightmare is?” Belle asked. “Aside from the ones where something happens to my father? I’m sleeping in my bed, and I know I’m in a room alone, and I don’t have a roommate, no one should be coming in, I know the door’s locked, I’m _sure_ the door’s locked. And then I hear it open. And I sit up in bed and my heart’s pounding and I say ‘who’s there?’ And I never find out. That’s when I always wake up with my heart pounding.”

Adam reached for her hand again; he couldn’t help himself. She had _nightmares_. Good God. His heart surged in his chest and he wished, for the hundredth time, that he could make it all go away. He wanted to badly to do that for her.

“Adam?”

He turned his face to her. “Yes?”

“Remember how you said earlier you could sleep on the couch?”

“Yeah, it’s totally not a problem.”

“Like hell you are sleeping on the couch.”

 

They ran into one of Adam’s buddies on the staircase and, to Belle’s own surprise, she did not die of mortification.

Boys had not been…a _thing_ for her before. They’d generally ignored her in high school, which was fine with her because they were also generally a mess. Adam didn’t know it, but he was her first kiss, her first fuck, her first…everything. And she knew that didn’t mean he was inherently special or _the one_ , but…she also didn’t know how other people would look at her, with her backpack and her overnight bag, clearly here to spend the night.

“Belle, I’d like you to meet Henry Cogsworth, who generally just goes by Cogsworth.”

Adam’s friend was a stocky young man who managed to at once look serious and kind. He held out his hand to shake and said, “Pleased to meet you.” Belle relaxed a bit.

“Is Lumière here?” Adam asked.

“No, he heard that Plumette was at the bar down the street and was out the door in a matter of seconds.”

“What’s his excuse to talk to her this time?”

“Something about the costumes for the spring musical, I think.”

“God forbid he just says he wants to make out with her.”

“I believe it runs more deeply than that,” Cogsworth said.

“It’s Lumière,” said Adam, with more tenderness than Belle could remember hearing him direct toward anyone that wasn’t her. “Of course it does.” He turned to her to explain, “Lumière’s a theatre major, BFA acting, and Plumette’s on the tech side, in costume design. She’s brilliant, and he’s extra.”

“As fuck,” said Cogsworth, with a gravitas that made his addition enormously funny. Belle was smiling outright now.

“Let’s drop your stuff upstairs and see if there’s anything in the fridge,” said Adam. “Where are you off to, Cogsworth?”

“Also the bar, so that when Clothilde calls me I can honestly say my phone wasn’t off, I just didn’t hear it because the place I was in was too loud.”

“You know what would be easier? _Breaking up with her_.”

“You don’t know Clothilde, Adam. You don’t know Clothilde.”

Cogsworth continued past them as Adam shook his head and went up the stairs. “I’ll leave that to Lumière. He’s the charmer of the operation; he’ll have more luck than I will.”

“You mean you’re _not_ the biggest charmer on campus?”

“What? God, no.”

“You know, between the sarcasm and the pretension and the time you slammed a book shut right next to my ear even though _you knew I had a hangover_ , I find that hard to believe.”

“Oh hush,” said Adam, opening the door to his room. “You still love it.”

 _Yes_ , Belle thought. _Yes, I do._

It was already nearly ten, and neither of them had had dinner. Adam proclaimed himself the master of cheese toast (“My skills with our toaster oven are legendary.”), and made several rounds of it for both of them.

“Is this Greek yogurt?” Belle asked, her head submerged in the refrigerator.

“Is it in a vat so large you could swim in it?”

“Yup.”

“Then yes, it’s Lumière’s, which means it’s also mine, help yourself. There’s also iced tea, since I know that’s a thing for you, and bananas on the counter.”

Belle spooned some yogurt into a bowl and poured herself a glass of tea. They piled their small feast on a tray and headed back to Adam’s room, which Belle actually got a good look at now that she wasn’t just dumping her bags there.

It was bit messy— _college boy_ , she reminded herself—but it was cozy. There were a lot of blankets. She pointed this out, for want of anything better to say.

“Yeah, I get cold pretty easily.”

“Does that explain the three piece suits?” she asked as he shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie.

“Nah, that’s just me being—what did you call me, in like our second week of class? A bourgeois ass?”

“Something like that. I don’t think that anymore.” Belle chomped down on a piece of cheese toast. “God, this is delicious.”

“Welcome to late nights at Gamma Sigma Beta. I know it’s hard to believe, but the cheese toast is the height of the hard partying.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Yeah, that was a lie, but we’re less lavish than we used to be.”

They sat on his bed in silence, smiling like dorks through mouthfuls of food.

“Belle,” Adam said, trying not to get distracted by her licking the last of the yogurt from a spoon, “I want you to know—anytime you need—anything—please, just say. I wish I could…”

Belle leaned over the edge of the bed and sat the empty tray on the floor, then swung herself back up. She and Adam sat facing each other, legs crossed. “You wish you could what?”

“I, ah…tell me if this is too much, too fast, but…you know my mom died when I was little, and she, um…she and my father didn’t have a happy marriage. And I saw how unhappy she was, even when I was little, even though I knew she loved me and I made her happy, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t protect her. I hate that. I hate that more than anything, even my father. My own powerlessness. And I wish I could protect you. I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have—”

Belle leaned forward and cut him off with a kiss. It was gentle and slow, but firm. His hand came to rest at the small of her back. He felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. God, the things she did to him.

She broke away a few moments later. “Adam.” She reached out to brush her fingers against his cheek. “You did protect me. I told you something was wrong and you did what you could to keep me safe.”

“I wish I could just destroy him.”

Belle laughed. “That’s a nice fantasy, isn’t it?”

“It’s a detailed one.”

“But it seems like a lot of effort.”

“It would be worth it.”

“A lot of effort you could be using to kiss me instead.”

“How about I destroy him first and then kiss you.”

“Only after you take a shower.”

“To wash off the blood?”

“And the sweat.”

“If there’s only sweat why would I take a shower when we’d just start doing things that would make me sweat again. Seems redundant.”

“What if I joined you in the shower?”

“Mm, now we’re talking.”

Belle flopped back onto the bed and reached a hand out to Adam. “Come here.”

He leaned over her, tangling a hand in her hair, and kissed her. It was light at first, teasing; he kept pulling away and it was driving her mad. She slid a hand around the back of his neck and pressed him down to her, demanding he give more. Asking if she could take more.

He groaned and leaned down onto her, reaching out to caress her face, to trail his fingers down her neck. She was wearing jeans and an absurdly cozy-looking yellow sweater. She was too adorable to be allowed. He broke the kiss and told her so.

She smiled and wound a lock of his hair around her finger. “You’re sweet.”

“That’s not something I hear a lot.”

“Well, get used to it, because it’s true. Despite your best efforts, your secret’s getting out.” The last word turned into a yawn.

“Bedtime, my love,” said Adam.

“I think you’re right.”

“I’m sorry, could speak a little louder into the hidden microphone? I want to remember this moment.”

“Shut up.” Belle grabbed her cosmetics bag from her duffel. “Bathroom?”

“Turn right down the hall, second door on the left.”

Adam changed while Belle was gone, divesting himself of vest, shirt, tie, and pants, and pulling on an old high school theatre t-shirt ( _Les Mis_ _érables_ , he had played Enjolras in part, he was convinced, because he had the hair for it, and he’d wanted very badly to steal that iconic red jacket) and flannel pajama pants.

Belle returned with fresh breath and wearing her glasses. She knelt to root around in her duffel as he headed toward the door to brush his own teeth, and he heard her swear quietly just as he reached the door. “Something wrong?”

“I forgot pajamas.”

“Oh.”

“I was in such a hurry—”

“Of course, yeah, you can wear some of mine.” He pulled out a drawer and handed her another theatre t-shirt ( _The Importance of Being Earnest_ ; Lumière had been the Algernon to his Jack). “Shorts or long pants?”

“Shorts please, I run hot.”

So she’d definitely be keeping him warm tonight. _Shut up, Adam, or she’ll kick out of bed and then you’ll freeze to death and lose your 4.0._ He tossed her the pajamas and made a quick exit so he could freshen up and she could change.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Belle buried her face in his clothes and inhaled. God, he smelled so good, she didn’t even know what it was. Probably just _college boy_ , which basically meant _pheromones_. She was smelling his clothes— _for science_ , her brain snickered—and she wasn’t even ashamed.

She was so far gone it wasn’t even funny.

She whipped off her jeans and her sweater, unhooked her bra, and threw on the shirt. After a moment’s hesitation, she slipped her panties off as well. No use lying to herself about what she was willing to do. What she _wanted_ to do. She pulled on the shorts just as she heard a knock at the door.

“Are you decent?”

The boy who had fucked her against a bookshelf was asking if she was decent. How was she even supposed to respond to that?

 _Now is not the time for your pedantic English major brain. Even if he thinks your pedantic English major brain is kind of hot_.

“Yeah, you can come in.”

Adam did just that, shutting the door behind him and padding in on bare feet. The side of Belle’s mouth quirked up. “ _Les Miz?_ ”

“I was a theatre kid in high school. Much to my father’s chagrin.”

“That explains _so much_.”

“Like what?” Adam continued to walk toward her, and she backed up against the bed, sitting down on it with a _fwump_.

“Like the dramatic flair that I’m becoming more and more convinced in embedded in your DNA. Oh my God, you had to wear makeup, I’m sure. I would have loved to have seen that.” _Sounds like you’re mocking him, Delacour. Fix it._ “I mean…I think you…I think you would look very good in makeup, actually. Gendering makeup is stupid.”

Adam smiled down at her. “I wore eyeliner every day of junior year, theatre or no. Drove my father up. the. wall.”

Belle smiled back and stifled another yawn.

“What time do you have to be up in the morning?” Adam asked.

“Thursday’s my easy day. Romanticism at noon and library after that til close.”

“So you’re stuck with me all day,” he said as they climbed under the covers.

“‘Stuck’ is maybe not the word I’d use.”

“Careful, Delacour, or people are going to start thinking you like me.”

“You mean people will say we’re in love?”

Adam groaned and flipped over to bury his head in his pillow. “How did you know?”

“Saw the t-shirt when you opened the drawer to give me this one. Were you Curly?”

“Will Parker.”

“Everything’s up to date in Kansas City.”

“Don’t you dare, or it will be stuck in my head all night and I will wake you up singing it as your punishment.”

He turned onto his side to face her.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she said. “You have to promise not to tell anyone else.”

His brow furrowed. “Absolutely. What is it?”

She shifted closer to him and rested her head on her arm. “I do like you. Quite a lot. And, whatever it is we’re doing…I like it. And I want to keep doing it. I don’t want it to just be…to just be, I don’t know, this secret thing we’re doing in the library.”

Adam reached out and ran a fingertip down the bridge of her nose. “I brought you back to my frat house, where a dozen other people live, and I made you cheese toast. You’re not my secret. You’re my Belle.” _Shit_. “I mean, you’re your own—of course you don’t belong to _me,_ I just meant that, I like you too, dammit, I like you so much, it kind of scares me, Belle, I…”

“How are you equally cute when you’re super eloquent in class and when you’re flustered in bed?”

“I’m a man of many talents.”

“Show me some more of them.”

He reached for her, kissing her soundly and fisting his hand in her t-shirt—his t-shirt—hell, it was hers, it was the first of what he hoped would be many articles of clothing she wore and never gave back, because it smelled like him, and then later it would smell like her, and then it would be his turn to steal it, and on and on they’d go, for…for he didn’t know how long.

_(Forever.)_

_(Shut up.)_

She caught his lower lip between her teeth and worried it. God, how had she figured out that weakness so quickly? It made him absolutely dissolve.

He rolled her under him and kissed her again and again and again, running his hands along her soft body, enjoying her, losing himself in everything he loved about her.

“Someone’s rather thirsty,” she said when they broke for air.

“ _I am athirst for thy beauty_ ,” he whispered, his voice so low it was practically a growl, “ _I am hungry for thy body; and neither wine nor apples can appease my desire_.”

Wet heat bloomed between Belle’s legs. She felt her lips part.

“I can’t take credit for that one,” Adam said. “It’s Oscar Wilde. Well, sort of. It’s from _Salome_ , which he wrote in French, and then Alfred Douglas translated it. Bosie. They were lovers. And I’m babbling.”

Belle’s gaze was fixed on his. “I’ll have to add it to my stack of things to read over Christmas.”

“Have you read much Wilde?”

“Only _Earnest_.”

“You’re missing out.”

“Quote me some more, then.”

“ _Quotation is a serviceable substitute for wit._ ”

“Never mind, smart ass, just kiss me.”

Adam’s mouth was at hers again, his stubble scratching against her chin. She was going to be rubbed raw by morning, she knew, and God, it must be so late, but he had turned a perfectly horrible day into a very, very good night, and so she couldn’t bring herself to care.

She wanted to strip him naked tonight, wanted him to fill her and drive every thought from her mind that wasn’t about him, but she was tired, she was so tired…

She let her head fall back against the pillow. “I’m sorry, Adam, I wish I…I want to, but I’m so sleepy…”

Adam chuckled next to her. “Go to sleep, sweetheart. And if you have a nightmare, you can wake me up. Remember I’m right here.”

She snuggled up close to him—he was right, she was blissfully warm—and tangled her legs with his. He wound an arm around her waist and hugged her tight.

She was safe, and she was here, and everything else fell away.

 

**Author's Note:**

> College AU tumblr masterpost: https://je-suis-em-jee.tumblr.com/post/159753219702/you-got-any-college-aumodern-au-adambelle. Thanks again to my lovely tumblr pals who just keep making this AU better.
> 
> The title comes from Oscar Wilde's letter "De Profundis" ("Out of the Depths") which he wrote while he was in prison for gross indecency (aka being gay and getting caught). I felt the title was appropriate to the depth of feeling Adam and Belle realize they have for each other in this fic.


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